Cigarillo
by Within The Lines
Summary: Dietrich has an evil plan up his sleeve to make the Rosenkreuz Orden more fun and as the title implies it involves cigarillos. Isaak x Dietrich Pairing


A/N: Okay! This is my first Trinity Blood fic. I thought of this one day when I was in school. I just decided to put it up. Hope you all enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood or any of its characters.

**O**n**e**-s**h**o**t **~

_Cigarillo _

Dietrich chuckled to himself as he walked down the hall to the conference room. He knew that what he had just done was absolutely wrong and that he would regret it later, but how could he resist?

As he entered the conference room, heads turned and eyes glowered at him. Because it wasn't routine for him to come in late of course heads would turn and questions would pop up. After all, the marionetten-meister***** was never late. In fact, he was usually the first one there, sitting with a straight posture and a placid composure, hands folded neatly and reading over the day's documents.

Not this time. _This _time, he was firmly fixed on achieving one goal, one that included a plan, a plan that he hoped would go accordingly. If not he would be sorely disappointed. He sat down in his reserved seat at the very front and folded his hands neatly, like always, and focused on Cain, who had his back turned when he came in. However, Dietrich already knew that Cain noticed him before he even stepped foot into the room.

Cain didn't stray from the subject. He merely continued.

"In order to make a new world we must center on triggering a new apocalyptic war between the Vatican, the New Human Empire, and of course Albion. However, none of this can be brought into action unless we all play a part. Don't you all agree?"

Everyone in the room nodded, knowing full well that "class participation" was a must during each and every conference. It was either that or end up like one of the less fortunate few. Everyone turned their heads to a seat that had cobwebs in it and shuddered. It was sad indeed.

Dietrich didn't see why everything had to be so boring. Sure, there was fun in seeing the pain in the eyes of the members of the Vatican and those lesser Terrans, but the goddamn conferences. Couldn't they at least have a slide show? He mentally sighed.

Cain went on.

"When you all play a part I expect you to play it well _without _sloppiness or **procrastination**." Cain put emphasis on the last part and eyed Dietrich as he said this.

Dietrich resisted the urge to smirk. At least he manages to get the job done, right? All these other lowdown creeps however . . .He glanced at the other members. Just pitiful. There was one member that was exceptional in his mind. Yes, he wasn't here yet was he? He stared at the seat on the other side of the conference table, across from him. Isaak Fernand von Kämpfer. He was late too. Much later than anyone would have expected.

Dietrich found himself chuckling again. That was the third time today already. He bit down on his lip. It was hard to stop now. This brought him back to earlier. Ah yes, how erroneous and sadistic his plan was. It would surely cause an uproar, no?

It was becoming hard to suppress his laughter and its consistence was beginning to turn heads (again) in the Rosenkreuz Orden conference room. That was the least of his worries, or rather, for now, **he** was the least of **their **worries.

Dietrich buried his head in his arms. He couldn't stop thinking about it. It was just too much! He accidentally let a laugh escape from his lips. He quickly covered his mouth with his hand and looked around. Eyes bore into his very being. His own brown orbs traveled slowly to the front.

"Dietrich von Lohengrin . . ." Cain said calmly.

Dietrich uncovered his mouth and straightened his posture in an attempt to show obedience and respect, although he had already messed up the latter. Before speaking he cleared his throat. "Yes Mein Herr Contra Mundi?" He strained to keep a straight face. He could feel himself cracking again.

"How long do you plan to continue disrupting the conference like this?" A visible frown was evident on Cain's features now. His fangs were bared.

"Forgive me Mein Herr. It won't happen again, I assure you," Dietrich replied with the utmost politeness.

Cain turned his back to them to face the large window pane, mumbling about stupid Terrans that took up space on the planet. Dietrich stiffened at this and glanced down at his folded hands. Cain had just completely killed the good mood he was in. Utterly killed it.

_That's okay. It'll come back to me tenfold soon enough. _He grinned to himself and closed his eyes, reveling in his calm, evil atmosphere. With an evil smile he reached into his suit pocket and fingered a smooth, black metal case, a Csonka Smokit. He smirked at the label: _Game FoilfFresh Palma Cigars. _There were more words on the front: _The rich Connecticut shade wrapper with robust Grape overtones creates a bold fusion of flavors... slow burning, smooth and sweet for a sophisticated smoking experience. _

Dietrich bit his lip again. It would only be a matter of time . . .

* * *

He couldn't take it. He just couldn't take it! Was this what a panic attack felt like? He sure hoped not.

_Why can't I find you? Why can't I find you!?_

Isaak Fernand von Kämpfer . . .was going utterly insane. He ran a shaky hand through his slick black hair. It's like he was having a nervous breakdown. His breathing became ragged.

"Where the hell is it!?" He shrieked. He put a hand to his forehead and attempted to breathe steadily. _Okay Isaak, think. Where did you see it last?_

. . . .

He couldn't remember. His thoughts were too jumbled up. His cigarillos usually calmed him down and allowed him to gather his thoughts. However, he never thought that their absence would cause him to get like this.

Opening his desk drawer he searched its contents, moving empty packs of cigars out of the way and pushing through pens and sticky note pads. He closed it back and opened another drawer. It was full of more empty packs of cigars and a mirror. He started to close the drawer back but got another thought. He took out the mirror and looked at himself.

"Sweet mother of Ares," he whispered. His eyes were bloodshot.

He put down the mirror and made a noise between a frustrated moan and a shriek. Asthma, that's what it felt like he had. He felt like a fish out of water. Not being able to breathe had to be the worst feeling in the world. He coughed and dropped to his knees.

_If not having a cigarillo in over an hour is this bad then I don't think I'll ever be able to quit. _

He looked at his study. It was definitely F.U.B.A.R. ( Fucked up beyond all recognition ). Papers were scattered everywhere, a large map of the world on the wall was beginning to fall down, books were strewn about, chairs and tables turned over, and his desk had cracks in it.

Isaak hung his head. Suddenly, claws protruded from his finger tips, extending and digging into the carpet. As he lifted his head his crimson eyes glowed ominously. He needed a cigarillo and he needed it _now_.

But who in the hell could have taken them? Nobody else in the Rosenkreuz Orden smokes, at least no one he knows of. He closed his eyes and thought for a minute. Who knew where he kept his case? He opened his eyes and frowned deeply as one name came to mind.

_Dietrich von Lohengrin. _

_

* * *

  
_

"The queen of Albion doesn't have much time left. She's already on her death bed. However, we can attack now and destroy Albion while its power is weakened. Isaak shall be the one to - -"

Cain paused in his speech. Everyone turned around and so did Dietrich.

Isaak stood in the doorway of the conference room, hair neat, suit and tie tidy, and composed as ever. He bowed out of respect. "My deepest apologies for my tardiness Mein Herr." Isaak walked around the table, passing the other members, Dietrich watched him all the while, and he took his seat, right in front of his protégé.

Cain continued with his speech, seemingly unfazed by von Kämpfer's lateness. Dietrich frowned at this. It was different for him because he was a Terran? How racist. He looked at Isaak and shuddered. The man's gaze was completely boring into him, his hands folded and covering his mouth.

The marionetten-meister furrowed his brows and stared at the table. Had his plan failed? Were the missing cigarillos even acknowledged? He expected at least for _something _to happen. _Perhaps he hasn't noticed yet. No, that's impossible. He's always smoking one, and if not smoking one then at least holding one. No . . ._He smirked to himself and lifted his gaze to meet Isaak's once again. The missing cigarillos _had_ been acknowledged. _He knew_.

Ah yes. Isaak Fernand von Kämpfer was furious beyond relief. With the slightest movement of his hands Dietrich saw the bared fangs. The plan hadn't failed after all.

"And further more - -"

The sound of chairs scratching against the polished wooden floor echoed in the room. Then, footsteps came following after. Cain stopped and turned around to see what was going on.

"What the devil is - -"

Isaak had gone into full fledged Methuselah mode. Everyone else in the room had backed off and moved away from the table. As Isaak stood from his seat, eyes glaring into Dietrich's he could only think one thought.

"Die!"

Dietrich pushed himself back in his chair as Isaak lunged across the table at him. "Give me back my precious cigarillos you damned Terran!"

Dietrich smirked and ran around the table. Isaak ran the opposite way. Then, Dietrich ran back. Isaak copied his movements. So, Dietrich stopped and so did Isaak. "You know, that's not something you should say to your dear protégé," Dietrich chided mockingly.

Isaak growled ferociously. "You go to hell!" He leaped over the table and grabbed Dietrich by the throat. He lifted him into the air.

"Isaak! I thought you were the one who didn't want blood on the floors," Cain spoke up calmly.

"This isn't a Persian rug Mein Herr. It's exceptional," Isaak replied back. (Sorry! I just couldn't resist. I had to borrow this. :P) Cain sighed and shook his head. He didn't mind seeing Dietrich's death. That's just typically how he was, sadistic and cruel.

Dietrich laughed and reached into his suit pocket. Isaak watched his movements carefully. The case of cigarillos were pulled out and then opened. Isaak's crimson eyes faded back to normal and widened. Dietrich put a cigarillo between the magician's lips, took out a lighter and lit it.

Isaak took a long drag of the cigar, lowered Dietrich to the ground and even straightened his suit for him. He gave him a warning glare and held out his hand. "My cigarillo case . . ._protégé_," he said mockingly.

Dietrich smirked and handed it to him. Cain didn't like the outcome of events. Nevertheless he told everyone to get back to their seats less he behead them all. And they did.

* * *

_After The Conference_

"Dietrich . . .why pray tell did you take my cigarillo case?" Isaak asked his protégé as they walked down the hall together.

"I thought that the conference could use a bit of fun is all. Didn't you enjoy the thrill of the chase?" He smiled.

Isaak stopped and turned to him. He took out his cigar and blew the smoke into the puppet master's face. Dietrich coughed violently.

With a cruel smile Isaak hooked his clawed finger under Dietrich's chin and pulled him in for a gentle kiss. "I did. However, if this shall happen again I'm afraid that I'll have to kill you."

* * *

A/N: Okay, I really loved this! I don't know about you guys but I was glued to the screen the whole time I was writing this. It was just awesome. They should make an episode of this. I think it would be funny, neh?

Don't forget to read and review!

***** Marionetten-Meister : In German this is how "Puppet Master" is translated so I didn't use Marionetten-Spieler since Spieler means "Player". And I didn't want Puppet Player so there you have it.


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